The Darkness Calling
by Hello Dee
Summary: A darkness is calling Sandry from her very dreams, and in those dreams she can feel the darkness urging her to give in to it. When she was younger, her friends gave her a globe of light to fill the darkness of night. But not even light can help her now,
1. Fateful Dreams

The Darkness Calling

Summary: A darkness is calling Sandry from her very dreams, and in those dreams she can feel the darkness urging her to give in to it. When she was younger, her friends gave her a globe of light to fill the darkness of night. But not even light can help her now, and neither can friends.

A/N: My very first TP fic. Whoo hoo! *grins* What do you think of it? I'll cherish anything you have to say, so please be the wonderful person you are and review. *smiles* Suggestions? (I know I could use some...) Critiques? (Is there something I can improve on?) Questions? (Anything you don't get?)

Chapter 1 - Fateful Dreams

A cry for help echoed in the air and the girl could feel the name tugging her at her very life thread. "Who's there?" She called out, trying not to cringe as she stepped into the dark tunnel. "Do you need help? Where are you?" She said again, shivering as the shadows enveloped her. 

She called out once more, using her the magical tendrils of her mind to try to attach herself to the person, hoping that she would be able to pull herself along the rope. The darkness seemed to thicken and become harder to go through, but she fought against it, hoping to reach the person. "Please, keep talking! I can't find you!" She said, shuddering as the darkness caressed her, inviting her to go deeper. 

Closing her eyes, the girl stopped, feeling as though she couldn't move another step. "I can't do it, I just can't do it," she whispered to herself, boardering hysteria. But this time, the darkness seemed to pull her along, taking her closer and closer to the voice, and to the evil that she knew lay ahead. 

"Lady Sandrilene!" 

Batting thick lashes over cornflower blue eyes, the Lady Sandrilene fa Toren woke up with a start, sitting upright immediately. Looking at her uncle's servent she asked "Yes, Melian?" 

"The Duke asked to see you straight away," she said, eyes shining with happiness, as she started to help Sandry get out of bed so that she could help her lady get dressed. 

Eyes widening with surprise, she let Melian help her out of bed. The small woman, with warm brown eyes and skin like the dark wood of the teliis tree lifted up a soft blue dress, fit for a queen, or at least a princess. Sandry shot the woman a questioning look. She normally chose to wear broad-legged breeches for riding, so she hardly wore dresses, especially of this craftmenship. 

"A gift from the Duke of Crista," Melian said, almost slyly. 

Not arguing, but still confused, Sandry was put into the dress, and found with delight that it was made with a fabric she'd never felt before. It was a silky fabric, but not silk. It was much to pliable to be silk. It almost felt like cotton, though it felt too smooth to be that. Cotton would be more scratchy, and wouldn't fall the same way. She systematically went through all the fabrics that Lark had taught her, and couldn't find one that matched this material. 

As she thought of this, Melian's swift brown hands pulled up the girl's masses of brown hair into a few simple but elegant twists on the top of her head. They were surrounded by a multitude of tiny braids, and fitted with blue seed pearls. 

When the woman was done, the 16 year old girl stood, and thanked her, glancing at the mirror near her bed. Staring back at her was a woman, with a smile laced with confusion. Picking up the long, blue skirts, she swished them a bit, admiring the motions in the mirror, as well as the soft fabric in her hands. 

"Come, my lady," Melian said, as she gestured to the two small lady slippers at the foot of her bed, and then walked out of the two wooden door. 

Slipping her feet halfway into the slippers, she managed to get one on, and she walked quickly, hoping to catch up to the woman. Stumbling into her Uncle's office while putting on her last slipper, she noticed her Uncle's company. Stifling a blush, she did an elegant curtsey to the stranger. 

"My dear, I would like you to meet Demolin fer Mahhenda. He is the grandson of the Duke of Crista." The Duke Vedris said, inclining his head towards the boy. What was odd was that her Uncle did not did not smile warmly at her, as he usually did. In fact, Sandry noted with concern that his eyelids were drooping as if he didn't get enough sleep, and his entire posture was worn. 

The boy did a stiff bow and said "My lady," 

Glancing at the boy, she noticed that everything about him was stiff, from his starched blue cape to his perfectly straight back. He looked completely scared of her, and Sandry hid a smile with her hand. He had pale skin, that indicated he had never worked a day in his life, and he probably wouldn't ever have to. It wasn't that she didn't like the boy, but she felt a mild envy for his innocence which brimmed in his green eyes. But she wouldn't give up her past for anything. There were too many good times. 

"Lord Demolin, could you please excuse my neice and myself?" The duke asked the blond boy. 

The boy did a quick nod and bolted out the door. Thinking it was rather odd, Sandry turned to her Uncle and looked at him expectantly. 

The duke sighed. "You know of my troubles with Crista?" He didn't need to explain. The Duke of Crista was a horrid man, who lusted for power and Duke Verdis wanted nothing to do with him. "They started to close in on Emelan, and the duke had a proposal. That a relative of mine marry his heir. That was his grandson, who will be 17 soon." The duke glanced at her and noticed the flicker of confusion that flashed in her bright blue eyes. Quickly, he finished "I could not accept of course. But I have met the duke's grandson, and he is a worthy boy. So I insisted that you meet him and decide." 

Marry? Me, marry? Sandry thought. She knew there were girls' younger then her who were married and already had children, but it seemed so ridiculous to marry some one she didn't even know. She glanced worriedly at her Uncle. She knew that the Duke of Crista was raising a havok for him. He's been itching to get into Emelan, and the mere challene of it excited the old Duke of Crista. Biting her lip she asked "How long do I have to decide?" 

"Until the next moon," the duke said kindly. Crista was big, and getting bigger by the day with all the invading they did, and from their constant wars bred toughened veterans. With the hordes of pirates, natural disasters and muderers, Emelan was struggling to regain its former glory. And Crista was there the whole time, waiting to make its move. 

As she thought, her mind drifted off and she found herself in a dark tunnel once again. She could hear the voice calling this time. Her eyes widened in horror as she recognized the voice. Briar? She thought, puzzled, as she walked forward through the thick blanket of darkness. Screaming, she found herself falling deep into a pit so completely black that she couldn't see the walls around her. At least she hoped there were walls. 

"Sandry?" The duke said, looking at his neice with concern. 

Snapping out of the daydream, the connection broke like a taut thread being cut. "I suppose it's the shock," she said, worried about her friend. "May I please be excused?" She asked. 

"Of course, my dear," Duke Vedris said, concern still heavy in his eyes. 

"I'm fine, Uncle," she said with a small smile before she disappeared out the door. 

Dashing to her chambers, she flung open the doors and frantically undid the lock spells on the wooden chest that sat on the table by her window. Hurriedly opening the chest she dug in it until she spotted what she was looking for. Holding the small circle made of thread with four lumps spread evenly apart, she held it up for a second, feeling soft contentment. Although to most, the thread looked plain white, to Sandry it glowed with power, each lump a different color and representing a friend. She fingered the green lump, the one that reminded her of lush forests and blooming flowers. Using that to connect to her friend, she strained to talk to him. "Brair? Are you all right?" She asked, talking to him mind to mind. 

She waited a few seconds before she heard a faint reply. "Sandry? That you?" The street-rat-turned-mage asked. They normally didn't talk, being that he had been on a trip for the past year with Rosethorn. It was always a strain to communicate when they were so far away. 

"Are you all right?" She repeated. He sounded fine, but that dream was so real that she needed to make sure. 

"Uh, yeah. I'm fine. Dandy, in fact." He said, in a tone of confusion mixed with sarcasm. She laughed at his tone and scolded herself for being so worrisome. 

"I'm sorry for bothering you. I've just been having dreams..." she said, trailing off. 

She could practically see Briar's grin as he said "Dreams? About me? Gee, you miss me that much? You know, for a bag-" Abruptly he cut himself off. "Oops, got to go. Rosethorn's calling." 

See? She told herself. Everything is fine. Everyone is fine. Leave it be. You have other things to think about. She sighed wistfully, and letting the thread fall from her hands. 

"Are you unwell, my lady?" The young man - Demolin, was what her Uncle called him, asked. Seeing her glance at the door, he blushed and said "The door was open, and, well, I just thought..." 

"It is quite all right, my lord." She said with a weary smile. "And I am very well, thank you." 

Embarassed, he did a jerky bow and quickly darted out the room, in a flash of black and silver. Slightly amused, she got up and went to follow this boy, who might one day be her husband. He had a sweet charm about him that let her forget about the worries that clouded her mind, and allowed her to be frivolous. She found it interesting that any noble should be so shy. With all the social functions they needed to attend, it was hard to get a minute to yourself. Not to mention that his grandfather was quite a charmer in his day. She'd heard many stories about him when she went out. 

*** 

Two swift feet scurried soundlessly through the halls, its owner's eyes darting every which way. Mentally pushing the door open, two eyes the color of coal lit up as it saw what it came from. The object floated into lightly tanned hands, hands untouched by callouses. Tucking the glowing treasure into a silk pouch, once again feet rushed off, heels barely touching to ground. 

It's mine! The person thought, eyes aglow with delight. What the owner of those light feet held was something far more precious than gold or riches. It was magic, undiluted and powerful. But it was something more than magic. It was a myth that was quickly becoming a legend. 

_to be continued..._


	2. A Lesson in Magic

A

A/N: Oh, sorry this took so long! I've been swamped with school work and just didn't have the time. Thank you everyone who reviewed the past chapter! Megami, thank you so much! =) You don't get compliments like that everyday, you know. Caitie, I was actually thinking about making it a Briar/Sandry fic, but I haven't actually decided, because I like their friendship in it, too. Although he's the only one mentioned so far, I'm going to get Daja and Tris in there somehow, too. Vixy, I'm sorry if it isn't that clear. What didn't you understand? Could you please e-mail and tell me - I'd love to know what you think. Zadie, thanks for commenting, and I'm sorry this part took so long! Ladyhaemi, thanks, but I don't even know what my plot _is _right now. =) I think as I go. Aurora, I was thinking about it being their circlet, but I still haven't decided...maybe we can talk later about it? As always, comments are adored!

Chapter 2 - A Lesson in Magic

Demolin fer Mahhenda is boring, Sandry realized as she ate her midday meal. 

Perhaps "boring" was too harsh a word, but what else could you call a man who does and says everything in the most uninteresting, conventional way? Boring was the only word that came to mind. She almost regretted asking him to lunch. 

Almost.

"Your grandfather doesn't let women become mages?" She asked, when she caught what he said last. 

The boy frowned slightly. "Of course not. Women can't be mages. They don't have the capacity." He replied, taking a sip of his tea.

Sandry took two deep breathes, telling herself that he was raised that way, and that's what he was taught since he was a child. Of course he'd think that. 

Although he was sitting at the opposite end of the long dining table, Sandry caught his eye and looked at him until he blushed and looked away. "You don't think that I have the capacity to be a mage?" She asked, her voice betraying no hint of dismay. She was used to hearing opinions like this, especially during balls held by her Uncle. But for some reason, it just irked her when the boy said it. 

The tips of Demolin's ears reddened at the question. At Crista, this wasn't the topics of conversation you were supposed to have with a woman. With women, you were supposed to talk about clothing and the kingdom's latest gossip - not about politics. "I - well...no - yes! I mean..." The boy looked around for help of any sort, but found most of the servants suddenly had something pressing that they needed to attend to. 

The girl's blue eyes didn't waver as she waited for his reply, though inside, she was fuming at his chauvinistic assumption. In some ways, women were actually _better _than men when it came to being a mage. She wished Rosethorn were here to teach the boy a lesson in manners.

"What if I told you I were a mage?" She asked, though she knew she wasn't, really. She was more something of an apprentice. 

The boy's green eyes rounded at the thought. Suddenly, he smiled a little. "Yes, of course. Of weaving, right?" Sandry was sure that Demolin didn't mean that comment to be smug. In fact, she was positive. But the way he said it...

"What are you trying to imply about weaver mages?" The brunette asked, wondering if he meant to imply that women could only be weaver mages, or that weaving wasn't manly, or even magely. 

As the older boy opened his mouth stupidly, in what Sandry assumed was to reply, a messenger ran into the dining room, panting. "My lady!" He gasped out. "I request the presence of the Duke."

Sandry rose from her seat to go to the man. "He's in a very important meeting right now. You may relay the message to me." She told him, then turned to her maid. "Melian, get this man some water." 

The man looked uncertain, but then he nodded as the brown woman gave him some water. "The Scepter of Arris has been found missing this morning." He reported to the niece of the Duke.

The stately young girl nodded, "Thank you. I will inform the Duke as soon as possible." When the man left, Sandry sat on her chair absently, trying to remember what the Scepter of Arris was, and failing miserably.

"You lost the Scepter of Arris?" Demolin asked, curiously, looking at her eyes, for once. 

Sandry frowned. "It was stolen." She hoped that he wasn't going to say anything else so innocently insulting again, because she was certainly not in the mood to be diplomatic enough to simply accept it. She'd be more likely to re-sew that cloak of his so it held his mouth shut. Arris...Arris...why did that name sound so familiar? She wondered, as she forgot about the young lord. 

"That's odd. The Cape of Oenda was stolen from my grandfather just a week ago." He commented absently.

"That's right!" Sandry exclaimed, finally remembering the studies long ago with Niko. "The Scepter of Arris, the Cape of Oenda and the Crown of Shiian were what the King of Ki Naq - the Invincible King wore, after he stole it from the demigods Arris, Oenda and Shiian!" 

The blond boy just looked at her, as if he thought she had already known. "Yes...according to legend, with all three parts - "

"A man can become invincible." The voice of Dedicate Lark finished softly from the doorway. 

"It's just a myth." Demolin said with a jerk of his head, that was supposedly supposed to be a nod. "Someone probably just thinks that they will get a lot of coins for the treasures." He finished, sounding absolutely certain. 

"Lark?" Sandry said, looking at her old teacher.

The woman sighed. "We don't know. We aren't sure yet. We've possessed the Scepter of Arris for nearly a century now, and still haven't found anything magical about it. We think there's a kind of key to make it work, but we could never find it. That's what we sent Niko and Tris to go and find."

Thinking of something Briar once said, Sandry said in an undertone to herself "Where's Niko when you need him..."

***

"Tell me again, Niko...why are we trudging though a forest when a nice city is only a little to our right?" Trisana Chandler asked her teacher, as she pushed braches away from her delicate glasses and kicked the foliage by her feet so she wouldn't trip.

Niklaren Goldeye smiled at his testy pupil. "We're looking for a hidden temple. You should be happy - if something happens to one of us, there's a nice city a little to our right." He replied, as he pushed his way deeper into the forest.

The copper-curled girl made a face. "Did you notice that all the things we look for are _hard _to find? Why don't we go on an expedition for some sea shells or something, for once?" Tris said. Although the young woman was complaining, the words she said lacked the shrewd bite that they held years ago. 

"Where would the fun be in that?" He asked, though he wasn't looking at her. Instead, he looked alertly around, as if looking for some sort of clue. Seeing a clearing through a few more branches, he hurriedly pushed them out of his way, going in the direction of the perfectly circular clearing. When he saw a medium-sized bolder about the size of a hut, he smiled and walked toward it.

"Is that the temple?" Tris asked sarcastically, a minute later, as she got through the last of the branches..

"Not yet, Trisana. Not yet." He trekked ahead, looking for more clues. 

"What temple are we looking for, anyway?" The girl asked as she stopped to wipe her spectacles that were fogged from the humidity. 

"The temple of Ki Naq." 

_to be continued..._


End file.
